


A Stone

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: All kinds of smut, Cum Eating, M/M, jerking off, pissing, sucking balls, sucking cock, two men on one cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-06 04:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: John is selected to drive for a rich, cocky man, Sherlock. John takes Sherlock for a sex drive.





	A Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Smut and more smut

"Sherlock, this is your new driver, Johnny Watson. Jackson is not able to drive you on this trip. He ran into some, er, trouble, you know, and is in the hospital."  
"Good to meet you, Sherl," shaking hands with a tall, skinny, curly-haired young man. His face wrinkles up, unpleasantly. "It's Sherlock, not Sherl."  
"Okay, Sherlock. How come you don't ride with the rest of the band. That van is roomy enough, "nodding over to the vehicle, watching the other three members load bags and instruments.

A cocky piece of shit John can tell, with his deep baritone voice, and the look he gives to me like he's a member of an alien race stuck with this uncouth man.  
The other man faces toward me, "I'm Howard Wallace, the manager of the Quartet Jazz. Here is your itinerary, the cities and towns you'll be visiting and where you're staying. Any questions you call me, understand?"  
Sherlock has already slid into the back seat of the Mercedes; a blanket tucked around his lap.  
John has read up a piece on this group. The members, all in their late twenties, have gained some decent reputation playing at exclusive clubs and hotels. And, as their name suggests, it's jazz. Sherlock is the violinist and gets kudos for the soul he puts into his playing. Soul in jazz?

I've lost my job and saw the ad for a driver at the unemployment center.  
Hey! Not a bad thing! Driving for a few weeks, and the money is good.  
Met them in Manhattan, and the first stop is in Philadelphia.

We're stuck in traffic, mumbling to myself when the deep voice pipes up, "the record company pays your basic salary. You will be given money by me to spend on clothes and sundries. And by the way, you'll need something better than those sweaters you have. Buy at least two suits when we arrive in Philadelphia."  
He throws over the seat a wad of bills, all one hundred dollar bills scattered next to me.  
Even with my gambling habit, I've never seen that much. My eyes widen, but I don't say anything. If he wants to give me that kind of dough; I don't complain.  
"If you should want for more, tell me."

"So, you play the violin, I heard. Jazzy sort of stuff. "  
He doesn't answer.  
"I'm lucky if I can sing a tune. Growing up in a cheap apartment with my parents and my two fucking brothers, we were stuffed into the only bedroom and were lucky to have clean underwear. And lucky if it was ours," chuckling.  
He still doesn't answer.  
Yeah, this is gonna be a fun trip, I think. Being out for six weeks with this high-class asshole is not going to be a cake-walk.

We arrive at the hotel just in time for supper, and I see a pizza joint right next to the hotel. But mister big shot wants a sit-down restaurant.  
"I don't eat fast food. If you desire it, I won't stop you."  
Since he's paying, I join him at the Italian place in the hotel.  
We sit apart from the members of the band. Stuck up fuck that he is. Why?

I order spaghetti and meatballs while he has some unpronounceable Italian name. He insists on wine. I would have preferred a beer. The plates are set down at the table and looking at the full plate I crack up. His fancy pasta name is just a fucking wide pasta. What the hell?

During the evening while he and his group are playing, I snag a good poker game with some of the hotel's hired help. And win.

I'm sitting at a table in the kitchen, three other men and I playing poker, forgetting the time and the swinging door opens, uppity boy charging in.  
"Why weren't you listening to my music?" hands on his hips, his curls dangling down his shoulders.  
"Why the shit should I? Besides, I won some good money at poker. Look," shoving the bills in his face.  
"Next time we play a gig I would suggest you listen. You might get an education."  
Scoffing at that, "I know enough friggin' music to keep me goin'. And besides, you play that stuff that's boring. Jazz. I listen to rock."  
Turning on his heels my poker friends and I have a good chuckle at him and his highbrowness.

* * *

In the car the next day with Sherlock, his blanket wrapped around his lap I turn on the radio to my music.  
"Please turn it off. I'd rather sit in silence."  
His money, his right.

* * *

That night I figure I got nothing to lose if I sit in the dining room and hear what kind of music this band plays. I must admit that I like being in a suit. The only time I wear one is funerals and weddings and mine is so old I can't button the jacket anymore. 

* * *

Sherlock has reserved a small table for me, and I order dinner. The food is better than any I usually eat.

* * *

I am impressed with the group. Sherlock is playing alone on many of the arrangements. He is good. But the music? Well, guess you have to get used to it. Almost like learning your ABC's.

* * *

We're on our way down south on the main highway, and his highness tells me, "John, I would prefer one of the secondary roads."  
"Why? We make good time on the interstate?"  
Sighing his sigh," Scenery and quieter."

* * *

We've been driving for about two hours, and I feel a need. Pulling off to the side of the road, Sherlock asks," what are we doing?"  
" I need to pee, and there's not another place to stop for miles."  
"You're going to-- do it here?"  
"Certainly not in the car!" opening the door and walking around, I knock on his window.  
"Hey for fifty bucks I'll let you watch."  
He chokes and shakes his head no. I let out a roar.

* * *

Still giggling, I take care of business and get back in, and we're on our way.  
"Does every enterprise have a price? Are you always out to exploit?"  
" Almost. I won't hurt another person, but hey, money is money. It's how I've learned to live."  
Turning my head slightly I say, "and if you want me to jerk you off, I will--for money."  
Again he chokes.  
"Ah come on there Sherl. I saw you last night with your hand under the blanket doing what comes naturally."  
"You did not. I was--."  
"Don't give me that shittin' crap. I know someone is jerking off when I see it. My brothers used to do it in their beds."  
" Do you ever--?"  
"Of course, any real man has the need to relieve himself."  
"Yes, I have to accede. It helps eliminate tension. Entertaining strangers every night is very stressful."  
"Amel what?"  
"To lighten or improve."  
"Good. Please stop using big words with me. School was not my best subject."  
"What was?"  
" Street smarts. Learning to beat the kids at their own game. And I don't mean with fists. I mean using what I had."  
"Did that include sex?"  
" Aha, now you're getting it! If my body got me the money then so be it. But no rough stuff. I wasn't into any of that."  
"What, if given the opportunity for a better education would be your passion?"  
"You know, Sherl, I always wanted to be a doctor. But not one of those fancy pants ones. Working with the poor people. Like I grew up with."  
"Please stop calling me Sherl?"  
"Too girly for you?" blowing out a snicker. No answer. I'm getting to him. 

If he doesn't like what I say he sits still like a stone.

* * *

"Why do you do it then? Play with this group. Not for the money. I'm guessing you're loaded anyway."  
"Not a factor. I have a strong passion for the violin but have feelings of isolation if on my own."  
"What happens? You get the shakes?" beeping my horn at the guy next to me, swerving over, giving him the finger.  
Sherlock groans.  
"I guess that's the easiest terminology to use for my symptoms."  
"But, you sit in this car as we drive and pump your cock by yourself. Is there someone in mind when you do?"  
A stone again. All's quiet.

* * *

I have to ask this question. It's burning a hole in my head.

" Have you ever had someone do it for you? Either a man or a woman? Maybe in the backroom of the hotel, or somethin' like that?"  
"You're getting personal now."  
"Aw, come on. We're sitting in this car for hours, and we need something to talk about. You know shit about sports, I know nothin' about your kind of music."  
He doesn't speak, but I continue, "For instance, I've had both sexes do it to me. Although don't get me wrong, I'm not gay. But a mouth on a cock, anyone's mouth, is a good thing."  
Through the rearview mirror, his fists grip the blanket.  
"Hey, shit. Sorry I bothered you. I'll stop talking." 

* * *

It's evening, and we've pulled into a small hotel that looks like an old mansion.  
I sit again and listen to Sherlock and his group play and begin to like what I hear.  
Before the gig has started, Sherlock suggested I try the salmon for my dinner. I've never had it before but, boy, it's great!  
A real connoisseur, this man is! Culture up the ass!

* * *

The music is over, and he's finished being congratulated by every Tom and Dick he motions to me to follow him outside.  
We're walking in the back, the grounds cut to the inch and he says,"  
" Do you have to urinate?"  
I grin. He's gonna' watch me. Stepping into a small area with trees I unzip and to my surprise so does he.  
"So this is a mutual pee? See who can go farthest and longest? I've done this lots of times."  
We pull out our dicks, and you can hear the sound of our water on the ground.  
He giggles and when he's done zips up and waits.

"Do I pay you?" while we walk back.  
"Nah. You took out yours, so we're even. We know what each of us looks like now, "staring at his pants," and you got a nice one."  
I hear him choke, and say," thanks. I guess."

* * *

In the car the next day it's almost like he's embarrassed. He won't meet my eyes, and again he's stinking silent.

"Sherl, nothing to be ashamed about. If last night is fucking with your mind, understand that guys do it all the time. At least the fuckers I know," giving a third finger salute.  
" I thought that was only a child's game. You show me mine, etcetera."  
"Nah. Now instead of who has the bigger sword, it's who has the bigger dick."  
"Does bigger denote better?" He's squirming in his seat because he knows mine is wider and longer than his.  
"It's what you do with it that counts, really. Not the size. For instance, how you shove it into a--."  
"All right. Don't go further. I understand the concept."  
And it's quiet. A stone.

* * *

Two days later and I hear heavy breathing in the back.  
"Come on, Sherl, let me finish you off."  
"I'm not--,"  
"Stop bullshitting me. You're digging deep. I'll find a spot to pull over."  
Driving to the back of a truck stop, far away from the building, I get out and tug on the back door, but it's locked.  
"Come on Sherl, open," jiggling the handle, banging on the glass.  
He refuses, and I get back in.  
I turn around and bend my arm on the back of my seat, facing him.  
"I can lean over and do it this way. Even under the damn blanket."  
"Please, Johnny, I don't want you to."  
Laughing, "afraid of getting caught?"  
He only nods.  
"Okay, okay," and I twist around to start the car off again.  
"The next time, though, we'll do it in the dark just for you. For free even."  
"There is no next time or even a first time."  
Snorting, but keeping my mouth shut I drive on. The stony silence.

* * *

We're now in the south, and the rolling hills and mountains are something I've only seen in pictures.

"Stop the car, Johnny. I need to --pee."  
Grinning, I pull over into a small rest stop with only two benches and a table.  
We both open our doors and slide out.  
"Come over to the table Sherl," motioning with my hand.  
I sit on the table and face the road, "pull down your pants and do it here."  
Shaking his head no, I show him, "See, I'll go first," my piss aims out at the passing cars.  
"Nobody can see, and even if they do, they won't care."  
He stands, turns away from the table, pulls his pants down and pees into the woods.  
"Someday, Sherl, you'll learn that nobody fucking cares about your dick," laughing as I zip up.

* * *

Back in the car, he straightens out the blanket, giving it a shake and back on his lap.  
You'd think I keep the temp of the car cold the way he has to have that awful green blanket.

* * *

After the band's session that evening, Sherlock takes my arm, drags me to the elevator, and we arrive at our hotel floor.  
"Come in. I want you to bring me to an orgasm," while opening up his door.  
" No, not doing it your way. You ain't gettin' away with it that easy," pulling away, "you want a fuck you'll get it, but my way."  
Without looking back I step over to the elevator, and we go down to the main floor, around to the back door and out into the little garden area.  
Walking further down to a grove of trees, I say, "lean your back against this tree and pull down your pants."  
He looks at me like I've got two heads, eyes wide, but does it. And his cock is already at full staff, him leaking all over.  
"Now, I'm goin' to pull your dick, and your gonna let it all hang out. Give with the oohs and ahhs."  
His majesty only breaths deep but doesn't say a thing as I grasp his dick in my fist and pull fast and hard.  
His cum squirts out in short bursts, and he sinks to the ground as it ends.  
"Wasn't that a shit load better than lying on a bed in a room? You were shittin' excited before I even touched you," wiping my hand on my pants and walking away.  
"Johnny, thanks."  
"Hey," calling back," don't thank me. Leave twenty-five dollars."  
The next morning on the front seat of the car is the money.  
I grin to myself.  
"What about you, Johnny? Can't I do something for you?"  
" Oh, you are, you are. The money helps. I'm getting my rocks off seein' you realize you ain't so different from the rest of us sick people.

* * *

"Johnny, we've been traveling four weeks now. Are you enjoying it?"  
" Yea, sometimes it gets boring. But you know, ya got's to expect that."  
"We're coming into a big city now. What would you like to do?"  
" Let's keep up the sex, Sherl, how's that?"  
There's a silence from the back and then, "Okay, I'll go along with it, I guess."  
"Hey, you let me worry about how and when."

* * *

One late night after Sherlock is finished I motion for him to follow me.

Turning into a side street, we stop at a movie theatre. He first stares at the marquee and then at me.  
"Do I have two heads or somethin' that you look at me crazy-like?"  
"I refuse," walking away from me.  
I pull his sleeve, bringing him back towards me, "Nothing wrong with a porn movie, is there? And besides, I already shelled out the money," pushing him inside.  
The ticket taker, a toothless old man, a knowing leer," the last row, and I'll send someone over."  
Whispering, "What does he mean, send someone over?"  
Slithering into the seats, Sherl is sniffing, "whew, this place stinks of urine. Should we be here?"  
We get shushes from the rows in front.  
On the screen are two naked men and a woman. She is tied up, and they are plugging her ass and pussy.  
"Sherl, pull your pants down to your ankles."  
"Here?" disbelieving.  
"Don't argue, "mine comes down, and he follows but slowly and reluctantly.

* * *

A man steps into our aisle.  
He kneels between us, and Sherlock tries to cover himself, leaning down to grab his clothes.  
"Don't you dare touch them and don't get up," I growl, his body already half off the seat.  
"Oh god, Johnnnyyy," as the man alternates sucking our dicks.  
He works both of us while the movie continues.  
Back and forth.  
Sherl's hand grips mine so tightly I think my fingers will fall off.  
"Yea, that's it. Do us up right," I whisper, gasping.  
Sherl cums first, the man holding his dick straight out, his sperm dribbles on the floor.  
"Never mind," my voice low," I'll take care of myself."  
The man stands and moves away.  
"Here, Sherl, do it to me, and don't argue."  
Groaning low, his warm hand gropes, fondles and rubs my dick, my hips jump and I cum.  
Sighing, we pull up our pants, "let's get out of here," I say, not waiting for the movie to end. 

The old man cackles as we leave.

* * *

Silence, not a word, not a peep out of the violinist until we reach the hotel and I key open my door.  
"Come in for a drink, Sherl."  
He follows, and I take two small liquor bottles out of the refrigerator, pour the liquid into glasses, and we both take a seat on the sofa.  
"That must have cost you a pretty penny, Johnny."  
"Yea," grinning and laughing at the thought of it, "but boy was it worth it. To see you get off like that."  
"I have to admit it was a strange experience. I've never had someone, what is the terminology, get me off in quite that way. My penis is still feeling it."  
"Your what?" looking at him and waiting.  
"Okay, my cock. Is that what you want to hear?"  
"Come down to earth, Sherl. Your cock is in the gutter, no reason you can't say dirty words to describe sex." 

* * *

Both of us drink in quiet, but I feel like the man has something to say that is important.  
So--I wait.  
"Would it be too much of an imposition if I shared your bed tonight?" staring at someplace across the room.  
The ice in his glass clinks, his hand shaking so badly he has to put the drink down.  
I'm shocked!  
"Yea, I'd love that! But--,"  
"I know. If you want sex--,"  
"You better believe that I'm goin' to climb on top of you and jerk our cocks off together. At some point during the night."

* * *

But it's he that wakes me up with his hand yanking on my dick.  
Okay, I figure. He's asked for it.  
I roll on top of him, "Let me show you how to shake out two cocks at once."  
Taking his cock and mine and lining them both up together I guide his hand to fist both.  
"Go ahead. Rub like you would if it was only your shittin' cock. And I'll get some gonad action goin'."  
"Some what? What did you say?"  
" Balls. Our balls need some fingering.  
Shit, you know nothin!  
Who's gonna cum first, huh?  
Think you can hold it longer than me?"  
His fist is hardly closed around our cocks.  
"Aw, come on. Stop playing nice. Squeeze your fist and give the skins a workout."  
"Yea, yea, that's the way. Now you got it. Don't hold back. Moan, baby."  
Hearing him come out with groans is music to me.  
I juggle our balls, wishing I could fill my mouth with his.  
I can feel his body tightening with excitement. "Let loose, baby. Let it happen."  
"Nooo, nooo," and he shoots off with one big wet one over both of us.  
"Yea, yea, keep goin'. Little more and, and, watch me, I'm gonna' fucking squirt."

* * *

Lying there he wants to clean up, but I won't let him.  
"Nothin' like feeling your shit on you for a while."

* * *

We fall asleep, but I wake to his tongue washing my cock.  
"Jesus, Sherl, don't you ever stop?"  
He lifts his head and moves back up onto the pillow.  
" I thought-"  
"Stop thinking and let me show you how to sixty-nine it."  
Turning down and placing our cocks level with our faces I put his sticky cock in my mouth and tongue it.  
"Can I do yours?" he says.  
"Jesus, don't ask, just do it! Lick my balls also. I love that."  
And before I can say, holy shit, I feel a finger on my pucker opening!  
"Sherl, what the fuck are you doing?"  
"Pleasing you. Is that good?" pulling his finger away.  
" I ain't gay so stop that! Just tickle my balls and leave my ass alone."

* * *

He rocks his hips, pushing his dick into my mouth, moaning.  
It's going to be him first, and when he fires his gun, it's on my face.  
"Stop what you're doin'," sitting up, pushing his head into my lap, getting his mouth lined up with my cock I shove him down.  
"Go on you fucker. Get it deep in your mouth," holding his head down.  
Watching his head bob, I grab onto his hair, "shitting hell, I'm fucked," and all my wad slides into his mouth. "Swallow it, taste me," bucking up, my balls tight.  
I release him, he falls back on the bed, wiping his face, and I reach over to kiss his lips.

* * *

After we shower, we're lying back in the bed he asks," I'm confused. You let another man do--."  
Holding his hand, "let me explain. I'm perfectly happy to have another man suck me but to go into my ass --no. I'm not gay. I don't need to get my rocks off that way. I think it's disgusting."  
"Would you do it to someone?"  
"Nooo, I wouldn't. Why? Would you like it if I shoved my cock in your asshole or even my fingers?"  
A sigh escapes him.  
"No. Not at all."  
"Okay, then subject closed. Get some sleep for god's sake."

* * *

One of the guys in the band mentions that Sherlocks birthday is Sunday.  
And I have just the right gift for him!  
"Sherlock, I know we're going for dinner tonight for your birthday. But, we don't have anything planned for tomorrow. We don't travel again until Tuesday and then it's a straight shot home. So, you're mine for tomorrow evening. Got it?"

* * *

I've found a massage parlor in the nastier section of the city.  
"Dear God, I didn't know these still exist," his eyes taking in the half-naked man at the desk and the big breasted women masseurs.  
"How do they get away with this?" his voice a whisper.  
"Bribery to the police. And good sex for them, free." 

* * *

Down a hall, opening a door, he's startled to notice pictures of men on the wall. Naked, and in various acts of fucking.  
Taking up most of the room is a king-size bed and on one wall is a giant screen tv.  
I can see he's shaking as he undresses.  
"Aren't you going to?"  
"Nope. It's your present from me. If you want out to say so now. "  
"I have to trust you," as he lies on the bed, his body quivering.  
"Lie down and enjoy it. Anything you want, ask."  
Two burly men step in, taking off trousers to reveal simple white thongs.  
One has tattoos all over his arms, and the other has nipple rings.  
"Well, look a here. This boy is waiting for us. Ain't the pictures enough for you? You need the real thing, don't you?"  
For a moment I think he's going to up and run, but he lays there.  
"I'm Frankie," the nipple ringed one says, " and this here's Joe."  
"I'll leave you here in good hands," giving him a high sign, "remember to speak up and let them know how to work ya."  
"Where are you going?"  
"I'll be close by. Enjoy it," leaving the room and hoping I've done the right thing.

* * *

I'm shivering but not from the room's temperature. 

A threesome? Male? My heart is pounding, not positive I entrust--. Might as well 'go with it' as Johnny would say.

* * *

They clamber on the bed on their knees, my eyes focusing only on the blank tv screen. 

" Your friend wants you to have the best. So, little fuck, how do you want your cock done? We can shave you first."  
Clearing my throat, but finding a little voice, " I guess, well, maybe."  
"Frankie, we have a shy one. Don't worry, man, we've been at this a long time."

I can't help but ask," what do you get out of this?"  
Frankie sighs," okay, I'll tell you, but we have a job to do, remember that.  
It's early retirement to an island home for both of us."  
"I suppose you' re--,"  
"Yea, we're partners. Now, stop your stalling and let's get your dick up and running."

Joe had left the room and was back with a bowl, razor, and towels. The water, warm with a citrus scent, is wiped gently on my pubic hair.  
Joe soaps my curly dark hair while Frankie pushes two pillows under my head.  
The tug on the hairs has my shaft quivering, jumping.  
Joe licks a swath up it, leaving my breath inhaling quickly.  
Frankie pushed my hair out of my face, "we want you to see everything we're doing, that's why I've raised your head. Now relax."  
  
"This limp dick has got to go away," Frankie states, bouncing it around with his hand.  
"My penis won't get hard; I'm too tense."  
Joe says, looking at me," Hey Frankie, listen to him! Penis! It's a fucking cock or dick. Got it?"  
I nod, and he leans in close to my face, "little slut, we've done it all, so you can't surprise us."  
Timid about this experience, I decide to 'have at it, "Could each of you lick my penis, I mean, dick, please?"  
"Polite too," Joe says, finishing up with my shave.  
"Shit, man. Every smutty, sleazy, gross word, and sound is yours to use. Go for it. Let it all hang out."  
Taking a deep breath here goes," tongue me, both of you, soak my cock with spit."  
"Aha boy. Now you get the idea. But first, let's turn on a movie. An orgy. Men only."  
Men are fucking with fingers and cocks, sucking asses, cocks, and cumming all over each other. I can't take my eyes away from them.  
The sounds of slurping, moans, and groans heighten the intensity of the moment. I've never watched a scene like this.

* * *

My eyes are diverted from the screen, being absorbed in what is happening on my cock. Both their lips kiss at my shaft, taking small bites, amplifying my twitching.  
"Yes, yes, teeth, bite. Fuck that's good!"  
One hand of mine fists in Joe's hair, tugging it.  
"Joe's going to suck you; I'm going to take your fucking balls in my mouth and tongue them."  
Frankie rolls one ball around, his tongue wetting, his spit running down my ass crack. Then the other. My body rocks back and forth, groaning loudly.  
Joe wipes my pre-cum onto his finger, holding it in front of my eyes.  
"Here, you piece of shit, lick your cum."  
I keep my mouth closed. The very thought sends my stomach rolling.  
His other hand grabs my jaw and forces my mouth to open, his finger swabbing my teeth with my filth.  
I gag, and he laughs.  
"You want to resist? Ain't going to help you."  
The tv has stopped running.  
Frankie slides off the bed and fiddles with a movie camera on the wall.  
"Now we'll make some porn with you. And boyfriend can have the copy."  
Fisting my dick he pushes the skin over my glans, forcing it over the edge.  
"Ohh shit, that hurrrrrts."  
"Poor baby," Joe counters, leaning in to take my tip between his teeth, nipping it.  
I jump up, pushing him away, tears running down my cheeks all the while rivers of pleasure run through my groin.  
"Do it again," the sensation so intense I both want and not want it.  
Joe runs his tongue around my tip, his eyes never leaving my face, and bites.  
"Argggg, ohhh, again,"  
Shivers run nonstop around my hip, causing me to rise my backside up off the bed.  
"Easy my man, you've only begun."  
His hands are soothing, palms going across my stomach.

Frankie has one of my balls in his mouth and squeezes on it at the same time as Joe repeats his nibbling at my shaft.  
I holler, the pain taking me to a high I've never experienced.

From a dresser sitting in the corner, opening the drawer the tattooed one takes out rubber gloves and lube and places one glove on himself and gives one to Joe.  
Joe kneels at my side sliding the waistband of his thong down.  
Thrusting his cock into his fist he cums on my chest, wiping his two fingers in it.  
"Slut, taste my shit."  
I shake my head no, my lips pressed together.  
His free hand slaps my cheek.  
My mouth opens in horror. He slaps me again, my tears rolling.  
"When your daddy's tell you to do something you do it. Got it, slut baby?"  
Retching while his fingers wipe his cum on my teeth and gums, "hmm, good huh?" the offending fingers out.  
"Do you want us to continue?"  
My brain refuses to reference the invasiveness of their actions.  
My mental state is so intensified, overrun by the physicality of what is transpiring.

My hips tighten, "yes, yes, do it to me, Joe. Whatever you feel like doing."  
"Tell us. Talk dirty."  
" Lick me, suck me. Make my penis, er, dick harder. Ohhhh, ohhh," writhing back and forth, my fists holding tight to the sheets.  
"Noooo, nooo," when Frankie's gloved finger plays around my ass hole.  
"I'm going to put one finger in, but first you're gonna beg for it."  
Now I can't focus. I want it all.  
" A finger, more. In my ass. Yes, yessss, do it."  
He's teasing, playing around my anus, the hole where I--.  
"You've got a nice little pucker there, but it needs wetting."  
Moving my legs further apart, his hands spread my ass cheeks.  
His tongue soaks my balls, spitting great gobs on my perineum.  
I feel the wet flow down my butt crack.  
Dear God, his tongue is grazing that space! His tongue!  
I twitch, my hips high in the air," argghhhh, please, do it now," gasping for air.  
Sweat forming on my chest, running down my forehead.  
"Go ahead, beg me. You're the lowest of the low right now."  
"Please, please put your finger in, please," my voice cracking.  
"In where?"  
" In my ass hole. My fucking hole, damn it!" anger and desire fighting inside me.  
"That's better," his lubed-up finger plunging in, no hesitation.  
I slide side to side, screaming out, part in pain, part in the exquisite pressure I feel.  
"You like that, don't you?"  
I nod yes.  
"Piece of crap you are. Will take anyone's finger in your hole."  
Looking down at him, crouching between my thighs, I'm moaning.  
Trying to think clearly. Can't think right anymore.  
Want more. Want it all.

His finger slides out and sniveling, I beg, "give- give me- tongue- in my-and fingers."  
I feel his spit in my crack, more at my twitching hole.  
Two fingers enter my private- my ass hole.  
Bellowing with pain, being ravished, hysteria overcomes.

My head back, my body rocks side to side, arms, and legs flailing out, blubbering.  
Frankie withdraws his fingers.  
"Hey man, calm down. Do you want to stop now?"  
"Is it enough?"Joe says.

Both are gently rubbing their hands on my arms and chest.  
"Nooo, nooo, it's so overwhelming. I want to cum," my sobs slowing down.

"Do you want it now? Or can Joe finger you ?"Frankie asks.  
With my eyes closed, "Do it. Finger me."  
"Open your eyes," as Joe holds up his gloved hand.  
"See these two," wiggling his index and middle digits," they're going jam into your hole."  
Watching him move between my legs, he penetrates, widening me.  
"Get used to it. They are staying in for the time being. Now it's Frankies turn to get his rocks off."  
Frankie pulls his thong down, rubbing his swollen cock.  
"Frankie, cum on his dick and balls. What a whore he is," Joe's other hand holding up my cock.  
Frankie shoots his whiteness over my cock.  
"Get his balls," Joe holding them out and more sticky wetness dribbles down.  
" How about a third finger? Frankie's itching to get in there."  
"No, I can't," sweat running down my face, my chest.  
"Can't say no. Have to let Frankie in."  
My fist curls into my mouth, letting out a muffled scream, my ass full.  
Two men, three fingers.  
My heels dig into the mattress, my hips rising up off the mattress.  
Pulsing their fingers in and out, it sends electric shocks throughout me.  
"Let's get his cock moving, Frankie," I hear Joe say.  
With fingers still moving in my ass, their free hands pull the skin of my cock up over my tip. Another moan escapes through my fist.  
"Stop, stop, ohhhh, I'm gonna--."  
Their fingers wrap tightly around my shaft, compressing it until I have no breath left.  
"Yes, yes, yessss. I'm going to cum. Any, oh yes, minute now."  
Those fingers in my ass, moving, those hands on my cock. It's--.  
My hips surge up, my legs tremble, and my liquid gushes, leaks and pours onto my chest.  
White noise, bright lights, a shouting, my shouting as my ass and cock emptied.

Barely able to raise my head to watch as Joe's tongue licks up my cum.  
With his tongue out he slathers it onto my lips.  
"Eat your fucking stuff, man. Go on, taste it."  
My lips folding in to taste the bitterness.  
"Now taste us all, "wiping the rest of the cum with his fingers, my lips open and shoves them into my mouth.  
I gag.  
"Frankie, have you ever seen a whore so covered in fucking cum shit," wiping more on his fingers and smooths it on my cheeks and hair.  
"Happy birthday," their words barely heard by me.  
They back away and I curl into a ball, exhausted and rung out.

* * *

Joe and Frankie knock on my door, and I give the men their money.

"How did he do?"  
"Better than you expected. He gave in and let us do everything you asked us to do, "a laugh.  
"He's covered in cum, both his and ours. And your DVD is sitting on the bed."

* * *

Quietly sliding my key into the door I open it to see Sherlock curled up, his light snoring the only sound.  
It must have been good. It's been well over two hours since they had started working on him.  
Smelling sex and cum and looking at him in the dim light of a lamp, I see Frankie was right. His hair, face, and his chest is a sticky white mess.  
Shaking him awake, "come on. We can't stay here."  
"Leave me alone," pushing my hand away.  
"No. Get up. Put your clothes on and let's get to our hotel. You can wash and sleep all you like, but can't stay here."

* * *

In the morning, I wake up to Sherlock's fingers tracing a pattern over my cheeks.  
"Johnny Watson. It was the strangest experience I've ever had. I confess I've never felt so cheap, so abused, so mishandled. Then again every sense aroused, every pore of myself torn apart. I owe you a thank you."  
"Would you do it again?"  
"Once was enough."  
"What was the lowest point?"  
"Having that cum in my mouth and body."  
"And the best part?"  
His face leans into me, and lips gently touch mine with light, delicious kisses.  
"I think I'll let you find that out for yourself because I'd like you to continue being my driver, friend-- and," his hand drops down to my cock.  
I remove it gently, "don't need to do that. Happy birthday and yea, I'd like that, this idea of being your friend and more."  
"But I'm not gay, you understand, Johnny Watson," he says with a smirk and wink.  
"I ain't either."


End file.
